


No Such Thing as "Requiescat in Pace"

by hunteriheroici (spacebarista)



Series: Non Timebo Mala, Non Timebo Mortem [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/hunteriheroici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassin Dean Winchester takes out a target. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Such Thing as "Requiescat in Pace"

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I'd been having this nagging idea for an Assassin's Creed AU of Supernatural since I've started playing the games, so I made an Assassin!Dean RP blog on tumblr, not that he's gotten much use yet. This is my first writing for the AU, and I'm sure there will be more to come. It takes elements from all seasons.

The first thing he could do was smell the blood.

It was everywhere: on his clothes, on the ground, on his hands... even some on his face. He reached up to rub the offending liquid off his face, but only succeeded in smearing the blood from his hand across his cheek. He looked down at the man at his feet.

Or the body of the man. 

The blood pooled under him, collecting around his boots and slowly expanding out. He stepped out of the pool, moving forward down the long hallway. He had no time to think about the man he had killed. He had said the words, there was nothing more to think on.

He had a target to eliminate. And little time to do it in.

Once the meeting was over, there was no telling when he would get another chance.

He climbed a cracked wall, swinging into the large chamber from a support beam. He landed silently on another beam, high above the men below. He could just barely hear their arguments, not that they concerned him. His gaze turned to a man at the head of the table, silent in contrast to his peers.

He had found his target.

He moved across the room, silently running and jumping between the beams until he was right above his target. He twisted his wrists, activating the mechanisms that release his hidden blades. They shot out from his sleeves with a snick so soft, only a trained ear could hear it. He positioned himself evenly on the beam, counting down from ten in his head. When he hit one, he pounced. He aimed his blades.

And slammed them into the target’s chest as he landed on him. 

Behind him, he could vaguely hear the men in the room shouting and the scraping of their chairs against the floor as they fled from the room. 

Fled from him.

He leaned down, nose-to-nose with the target, whose eyes were closed in death. “I wish I could say I hope death will not be unkind. _Go to he-_ ”

He was cut off by the sound of his own grunt. A sharp pain bloomed under his ribs. He knew what it was before he looked down. A knife was hilt-deep in his gut, held in the still-strong hand of his dying target. He looked up, meeting the other man’s bright yellow eyes. His target smiled malevolently, twisting the knife and drawing another groan from him.

“I don’t think I will. Not today.” The target leaned up, his smile widening.

_“Requiescat in pace, Dean Winchester.”_

Dean snapped up, covered in sweat and panting heavily. He looked around him, taking in the spartanly furnished space that was his bedroom. He was safe in his room, back in the Assassin hideout in Lebanon, Kansas.

Azazel was long dead. He’d killed the man himself.

Dean reached for the water bottle on his nightstand, gulping some down. He continued to breathe, looking around and telling himself he was home. Or as home as he could be. He took one more swig of water, then turned on his phone, setting it to play some Led Zeppelin before lying back down.

_Azazel is dead. Azazel is dead. Azazel is dead._

He continued his mantra until he finally drifted off, falling asleep before the end of the intro to “When the Levee Breaks”.

Azazel was dead, but he still haunted Dean in dreams.


End file.
